After reading yesterday’s post, my aunt invited us for a summer bright spot. Instead of serving coffee and biscotti, we met for a picnic lunch at the park. We sat in the grass under the shade of a huge pine tree, eating fries and burgers from Dairy Queen.
On the way to her house, I thought of how I’d tell her of the wolves that had been knocking at my door.
I’d give her the details.
I’d get her take on things.
I’d vent (a little) and spew. Continue reading →
“Dad, if you changed some things so that we would be more comfortable around you, we would want to see you more.” Will, with eyes blinking incessantly, and hands shoved into the pockets of his grass-stained kahkis, summoned the courage to stand up to his dad.
Later, Will told me he felt like he wanted to throw-up when he was talking to Mark.
Jenny was hiding in a corner of the garage. When Mark asked her if he still used the baby voice, she was visibly shaking. She looked down at her feet, clutched her Barbie, and whispered, “Yes.”
Then, Mark announced to the three of us that he has only one voice. He does not have, and never has had, a baby voice. Continue reading →
“You mean, simply by following my path, I will have complete confidence in everything I say? I’ll spew wise words, funny tidbits, and wow everyone at cocktail parties? All I have to do is be true to myself, show the world who I am, and I’ll never embarrass myself again?”
“It’s not like that. Although that would be nice. It’s not about suddenly becoming a sage with a great sense of comedic timing. It’s about speaking from the place of knowing who you are, having a good heart, and sharing that with the world. It’s about trusting your intentions.
Yes, you are going to say ridiculous things. You probably will still be the type who speaks before the filters have kicked in. The point is that you are speaking authentically. You aren’t couching your words to please another. You won’t be sizing up the audience to try to determine what they would most like to hear.
You will be offering up what is in your heart and mind. Some words will be wise. Some words will be funny. Some words will undoubtedly be stupid.
But they will be your words. Continue reading →
Last night I went to my 30th high school reunion. I had a great time, even though I thought I might have to pull my car to the side of the road and throw up on the way there. All the insecurities I dealt with 30 years ago seemed to bubble to the surface, as my car approached the tavern where the event was held.
It was fun.
I’m glad it’s over.
Note to high school reunion planners: Continue reading →
That window gets smaller every year – that time between the excitement of spring planting and the heat of summer bringing pervasive weeds.
This year the window was particularly small. Seems like we waited forever for summer to get here, and suddenly the weeds have taken over the garden.
I headed out this morning, spade in hand, to perch on my little stool, and begin a little garden therapy. The tomatoes, herbs and pumpkins are being taken over because of neglect. More garden counseling sessions are in store.
As I started pulling, I went for the biggest weeds. By pulling the largest weeds first, it made the task less daunting. The big weeds make it look like there are more renegades in the garden than there really are.
The big stuff magnified all the little stuff. Continue reading →
I’ve been writing on this blog for almost a year. I remember the day I received my first comment. “Will! Jenny! Someone actually commented on my blog! They liked my blog enough to comment. Someone read what I wrote! You guys! Isn’t that crazy/weird/awesome/scary/fantastic?”
And then I felt self-conscious. I’m not sure why it didn’t occur to me to be self-conscious prior to receiving that first comment. But a comment does mean that someone actually read the blog, rather than some sort of spambot stopping by and doing whatever it is spambots do.
And then I received another comment.
These comments were from complete strangers. There were people out there, that I didn’t know, and they were reading and taking the time to send encouraging words back.
It felt great. Better than great. Continue reading →
This is the calm before the storm. Or is it? After Mark’s last email to Will, we have not heard much from him. It has been quite pleasant around here. Although, there is a part of me that wonders what’s coming next.
Will received that lengthy, mom-bashing, blame-laying, ‘your life wouldn’t be what it is today without all the sacrifices I’ve made for you’ email on the day before Father’s Day. Jenny and Will opted not to call him. On the evening of Father’s Day, Mark left a message asking only to talk to Jenny. Jenny begrudgingly returned his call on Monday. It sounded like Mark was actually asking detailed questions about her weekend. He did not ask to talk to Will.
On Tuesday, Mark called, and this time asked to talk to Will. He had some story about his neighbors, to relay to Will. He ended the conversation by saying, “Hey, I’m floating the river tomorrow. Do you want to come?” He didn’t discuss the email, or Will’s lack of response to his email. After Will got off the phone, he shook his head and said, “Dad is doing that thing where he is pretending that everything is fine.”
Will didn’t go floating with Mark.
I answered the phone on Thursday. Mark asked if the kids were home. I held up the phone and said, “You guys, it’s your dad.” They both looked at me, shook their heads, and whispered, “NO! We don’t want to talk to him.” Instead of forcing them to talk to their dad, I said, “Mark, neither one of the kids wants to come to the phone.” He sternly said, “Okay. Goodbye.” Continue reading →
I sat in the lobby of the old hospital building when my kids were in their last counseling session. The session was over two hours long. I sat and waited. I should have gotten groceries. I should have run to the bank. I could have done a lot of things. Will was concerned that Mark might take them ‘somewhere’ after the session. To offer Will some comfort, I promised that I’d be sitting there when the kids got out of the session.
I did not want to risk missing them and frightening them.
I sat for two hours wondering how I got to this place. How did I marry this guy? How did I get into a situation where I have to guide two precious people through this strange relationship with their dad?
I was the only person in the lobby area. I was surrounded by masculine leather furniture, elegantly arranged dried plants in over-sized urns and decorating, financial and sports magazines. I wasn’t interested in reading a magazine. All I could do was stare at the wall in front of me.
On that wall, there were three large, ornately framed, sepia-toned black and white photos of the construction of the building. The building started out as a Catholic Hospital, in 1892. The photos showed a grouping of nuns standing on the second floor, looking down as the building was blessed by an officiant from the Catholic Church. There were cars – probably Model Ts – parked on the street in front of the new construction. The photos showed workers in tattered clothes, nuns in their robes, and the Priest in vestments. The contrast was both ordinary and striking. It was a glimpse of life on this day, in a small town in the west. In that day, the hospital was a welcomed addition to this town. Continue reading →
I am the stream. I am the stream. I am the stream.
Yeah.
Whatever.
There are a few more rapids in the stream today.
I do believe in the stream. I am the stream. But, today I needed a little help getting around a humongous boulder. Continue reading →
I thought about posting the most damning quotes from the emails received from Mark in the last few days. I thought I might even write about how Mark is telling Will that while every boy needs a mom, they don’t need a mom who poisons them with the hate they feel for that boy’s dad. I thought I’d even post entire copies of those emails. (Trust me. They far exceed the 1000 word limit that a lot of bloggers prefer.) I thought of posting his criticisms and defending myself. His writings further prove his disorder, so it certainly would be more fodder for this blog.
And when I pictured myself typing those things, I saw battery acid oozing out of my finger tips. The acid flowed over the keyboard and cemented the keys, so that I could no longer type.
I can’t type that negative stuff.
I can’t give more life to his hateful words.
It was the night before Father’s Day, when Will read Mark’s recent email out loud. The kids didn’t cry. They didn’t pace the floor and exclaim that they don’t understand how their dad could write such things. They didn’t beg to sleep in my bed because they were so hurt or bruised by Mark’s words. Continue reading →
I have learned how to throw a spiral.
I ski on the days when it’s too damn cold, though I’d rather be sitting by the fire reading a good book.
I routinely embarrass myself on the golf course.
I know the difference between an ollie, a nosegrind and a kickflip.
I laugh at their burp competitions.
I let them spit sunflower seed shells at each other – until I can’t stand it any more.
I let her cut up her new Barbie outfits because she loves to “alter” things.
I remind her every day that she’s beautiful, and strong, and smart.
I remind him that the strongest men are tender – that they don’t hide their feelings.
I watch hours of skateboarding DVDs, listen to volumes of data on the intricacies of different players’ golf swings, and help build snowboard jumps off our front step.
I let her know that what she has to say is just as important as what anyone else has to say.
I shoot hoops and play h.o.r.s.e, although sometimes I’ve been known to forget and call it h.o.u.s.e.
I carry her to bed some nights, even though she’s getting too heavy for me, because a strong daddy would carry his little girl to bed.
I try not to watch when he rides his bike ‘no hands’.
I put worms on hooks when I’d rather not. I let him mow the lawn even though I worry that he’ll get hurt. I try not to baby him in front of others, and I try to treat her like a princess without letting it go to her head.
Once in awhile, when no one is looking, I’ll let them take turns sitting in the passenger seat, and practice shifting gears
I try not to tell him to ‘knock it off’ when he drinks out of the milk carton, even though that drives me nuts. I let them squirt the whipping cream straight into their mouths.
I am trying my best.
Today I will look in the mirror and say, “Happy Father’s Day,” to myself.
To all the fathering mothers and the fathering fathers, thank you for all the good work you do.
“Whoa! That was a fun ride!” she says, facetiously. I’m sure it won’t be the last time Fear drives this bus. But, for now, I’m back behind the wheel. I’ve got to look into getting some seat belts installed on this thing. The view from the back seat was interesting, but a little blurry because Fear was driving so fast. That’s probably why I was up the night before last, vomiting. Fear does that to me. It’s a lot like car sickness.
This morning is cold, cloudy and rainy. My mood, however, matches a 75 degree, sunny, windless day.
I’m driving now, and I have my confidence back. The ride is smoother, more leisurely, and I’m sure we’ll stop for snacks and take in a matinee.
Fear took control of the bus when I lost faith in myself and what I know to be true.
I was silencing my own voice, to better hear what others had to say. But I forgot that no one knows my kids as well as I do. No one knows their hurts, their insecurities and their fears like me, because I know how they got them. Continue reading →
I am scared. My stomach hurts.
Mark talked to my mom before his counseling session today. He admitted that yesterday’s visit did not go well. He said he thinks he can’t reach Will. I’m stunned that he can see this.
My head was reeling with the sudden change in Mark’s tone.
Is he ready to discard the kids because they aren’t interested in sourcing his narcissism? He has never admitted to this strained relationship with Will before. Why now?
The kids are scheduled for a session with Mark and the counselor tomorrow. They are begging me not to make them go. They are crying. They are pleading.
I’ve told them that we are taking the ‘high road’. We will go to one more session to show Mark, and the world, that we are giving this our best. Continue reading →
